


Fingers

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: One word mini fic: fingers





	1. Chapter 1

She’d told him once that she’d recognised him from surveillance tapes by his finger. Clasped together in a bandage.

Now, there are a hundred ways she’d recognise him. The sound of his breathing in the dark. The cut of his jaw. The hands-on-hips pose even from a thousand yards. The way he scrambles her eggs with that Cholula sauce to make them ‘as hot as her’. The warm smell of sandalwood that bloomed in the passageway from the bathroom after his shower. The pile of dirty linen left just to the right of the laundry basket. The shape of his long legs in his overworn jeans, left over the seat of the chair in the corner of their bedroom. All these things are locked inside her.

His gentle sigh explodes over her neck sending gooseflesh skittering down the length of her. Overhead, the fan ticks lazily. She smells rain in the thick air flowing from the open window. Flex, crook, slide, rub. It’s a rhythm she knows so well, recognises it as much a part of them as their urgent, whispered ‘fuck, I love yous’.

And when she comes around his fingers, he keeps them there a while, locked inside her.


	2. Chapter 2

His fingers slip out of her but she’s still pulsing. He snuggles into her side, lips pressed to the crook of her neck, scruff rasping enough to keep her nipples peaked. She thinks about that comment he made not so long ago: ‘Scully, put a dimmer on that afterglow’. How do you overshadow something so bright it refuses to dull? 

He traces a line from her mons to her navel. Feathery light but enough to elicit a stippling of gooseflesh. She presses harder against him and his cock jumps to rub between her ass cheeks. She’s wet. He moans in appreciation.

“Feels good,” he whispers and she bucks gently, increasing the friction for him. “You feel good,” he says, lifting his still tacky hand to cup a breast. Her brine-scent clings to her nipple as he twists and tweaks it between his finger and thumb. Her movement intensifies. The exquisite pressure begins to build again. His cock slips back and forth to rub along her perineum.

Arching, she allows him in. He doesn’t take his time, thrusting in a swift movement, one hand clasped across her breast, anchoring her to him. She parts her knees to give him more. He takes it, pushing deeper still. Skin slaps skin. Heat builds inside and out.

“I need…” she begins to speak, but doesn’t finish. He knows what to do. His arm under her moves higher to continue the attention she craves on her nipple. The other hand slips low, thumb from the lower knuckle along its full length, wedging where it needs to go, the sweet spot. She’s reminded again of why she loves Mulder’s fingers. With the additional pressure on her clit and his cock pumping, she comes hard. He follows, releasing into her with a guttural, contented groan.

The fan continues its languid whirr, quietening only when the distant rumble of thunder eclipses it. Through the gap in the curtain, lightning cuts a brilliant crescent against the wall. She watches it awhile, catching her breath as Mulder snores quietly behind her. His cock softens but remains snug between her wet cheeks. His hand is still possessively positioned over her cunt, two fingers buried in the warmth. She smiles and slips into sleep, content in the brightest afterglow.


End file.
